Taisexual
by Seph Lorraine
Summary: "Ishida Yamato was anything but average. As far as I was concerned, he was perfect, but that didn't mean I had to like him." [Taito]


Author's Note -- ( 00:22:18, 04|04|03 ) -- Damn, I put quite a lot of work into this. Didn't turn out that great, though.^_^;; Just a bit of Taito stuff I needed to get out of my system. I actually came up with this entire thing while pretending I was Edward Scissorhands as I did lawn work this morning. Though, I should probably warn you that this really doesn't have a plot other than your traditional 'how they got together' schabang, okkei? I also left out a lot that I would liked to have added, though unfortunately this was getting far too long.  
  
I'm not really pleased with this piece, mind you, so I am much sorry for spelling and grammer mistakes. Feedback is much appreciated, and I'll love you forever if you review. :)  
  
Fic Details -- "Ishida Yamato was anything but average. As far as I was concerned, he was perfect, but that didn't mean I had to like him." [Taito]  
  
Warnings -- Mild Language, OOC, Shounen ai (m/m pairing- romantic), Fluff, Long-ness...  
  
Disclaimer -- If I owned Digimon, I wouldn't have to wake up at 7:30 AM to do yard work. _  
  
*****  
  
Taisexual * By Seph Lorraine  
  
*****  
  
There are few things in this world that don't pass me by. I was never exactly considered a very bright child, growing up, nor was I ever really considered 'stupid'. Well, maybe some people though I was stupid, but generally I was pretty average. I didn't exactly have the largest attention span, for one thing (much to my lover's annoyance), and my grades were usually ranged from low C's to high B's.  
  
Average.  
  
I can't say that it ever really bothered me, either. Through the years of my childhood, into the time I entered the digital world, it never even crossed my mind as important. Why would I even care to stand out of the crowd?  
  
That changed when I met him, though.  
  
At first, I admit, I didn't like him. I couldn't understand why he wasn't like everyone else. When I formed my ideas to help us get through the digital world, he was always there to shoot them down, or just say some generally negative comments. I didn't understand him-- I don't think anyone did.  
  
Ishida Yamato was anything but average. As far as I was concerned, he was perfect, but that didn't mean I had to like him. He could literally do it all, or so we thought. He could cook, clean, sing, play harmonica (later, even a guitar), he was even fairly athletic, he made good grades, and even though he tried to hide it, he cared about others. Though, he was always so distant, and if there was anything imperfect about him, it was that.  
  
We fought often in the beginning. By 'often', I mean constantly. We even had each other pinned as 'arch-rivals'. That, I felt sure, was one of the elements of his distance from our group.  
  
When we finally did get over our difficulties in getting along with each other, though, some of that distance seemed to vanish. Gods know it took two years to get that way. Though, all-in-all, I was happy to have gone through the motions. Ov that time, we became best friends, and I began to understand why Yamato was the way he was.  
  
I will never -fully- understand Yamato, but I finally think I know him better than anyone else.  
  
It's a good feeling to be as close as we are in our friendship. It means that he trusts me-- and I know that I trust him. It means that we're allowed to hang out constantly (live in the same apartment), call each other at all odd hours of the day and night (knocking on the walls), and pass notes in class (in highschool, anyway). It also means that when we argue, now-- and we often do-- we don't really need to apologise.  
  
Yamato made me more than average.  
  
Though, despite all the benefits of being his friend, in the end, it wasn't enough for me. Maybe I'm more greedy than I had originally thought myself? Yes, I will admit that I am selfish when it comes to Yamato, but that wasn't quite it, in this partcular case.  
  
I was in love.  
  
There were days when I only rose from my bed to meet him at the curb so we could walk to school together, and there were nights when I could only find sleep because of his melodic voice streaming from my stereo. Though, I will admit, that as unromantic as this will sound: I never once dreamt of Yamato in a sexual or romantic way until I came to terms with my love for him. Instead, it was just the opposite.  
  
The night that I first realised I might even be gay, I dreamt that he and I and the other original chosen ones were playing hide an seek at my home. What was so odd about the dream, though, was that he was 'it' and the way the game worked was this: if Yamato found you, he put a bullet through your head.  
  
Maybe it was some sort of subconsciously fearful thinking that Yamato decided to first go after me, but whatever it was it really didn't help me. Yamato found me trying to squeeze into a closet and put a bullet through my head without hesitation. I even remember the fade to black after the loud 'BANG'.  
  
I remember wondering why he was -barefoot- in my home as I fell to the ground, dead.  
  
I often had dreams like that, though there are few that I really remember-- that one, being the most vivid. The dreams were always centred around Yamato, though never in a compassionate, romantic, or even friendly way. For weeks, just being around him made me edgy. I remembering almost weeping over not understanding what was wrong with me, or why he made me act the way I did.  
  
That time is, of course, just as blurry as those dreams. And I suppose it's for the best. I don't favour reminiscing over that particular time. I do remember when I finally realised I was in love with him and how it worked out, though-- and the dream I had on that night.  
  
*****  
  
I knocked on the door lazily, "Yama! Open up!"  
  
A muffled grunt drifted through the door from somewhere within the apartment. There was only the sound of pots and pans for the next minute or so. No one was coming to the door.  
  
Translation: The door is already open.  
  
I opened the door easily and let myself in, shutting it and removing my shoes to exit the foyer and head into the kitchen, for that was no doubt where the blond would be.  
  
"You better have locked the door, Yagami." His voice was very clear, even from the kitchen.  
  
I turned back, reapproaching the door, and locked it quickly, "I'm not brainless enough to -forget-, you know."  
  
A derisive snort.  
  
I entered the kitchen, and sure enough, he was there, examining a random page in a recipe book.  
  
Sora was there, too.  
  
Luckily, my groan of disppointment at her presence went unnoticed by the room's other two occupants.  
  
I mentioned before that I was selfish when it came to Yamato, and it has always been that way-- even when he didn't get along in the beginning. Though, it wasn't as pathetic as me just wanting to keep him to myself, or anything, it was much more complex than that. It still is.  
  
Yamato has a fucked up mentality. That is the easiest way to explain it. Unlike me, he is not average, was never average, and shall continue to forever be anything but average.  
  
It was amazing for me to note, after knowing Yamato for a few years, the problem that caused his distance. Yamato had serious antisocial issues. I was much displeased with the fact that he was always so moody and reclusive, and I think I did help to cheer him up at times, but it just never did as much good as I would have liked. I decided to make him more involved with the rest of the group, dragging him around with me when we went to play soccer in the park with Daisuke and the others, out to films, etc. We did grow closer as friends, but it was as I drug him through this series of random social events, that I noticed something that changed my opinion on him.  
  
When it was just he and I, he could joke around, laugh, smile, and even talk more often. He was relaxed when we were alone, but when we were with the others, things changed. That distance that I thought was fading, only resurfaced more forcefully. He would become quiet, impassive, apathetic, and generally cynical.  
  
It was when I noticed this small alteration in persona, that I stopped. So what if Yamato was a bit antisocial? I would rather him be alone and happy than depressed with others.  
  
Yamato was the 'odd' in 'god'.  
  
I couldn't help but sending Sora a small glare. I didn't want her there. I had experienced too good of a day to come over and talk with Yamato while he was in one of his moods.  
  
Yamato glanced up at me when I entered, and turned back to his book. He didn't speak, and surely, enough, his eyes held that same cloudy distance that I recognised as his 'I-don't-feel-like-being-alive-right-now' mood.  
  
Unfortunately, I always pick the right time to visit.  
  
Sora, on the other hand, glanced at me and frowned, turning back to my best friend, her eyes held some irritation, and some sort of sadness, "I'll just leave, now." She began walking towards me quickly, calling back over her shoulder in a rather angry tone, "I'm sure that will please you, your highness!"  
  
She paused beside me at the doorway, and gave me a sort of sad smile, "I'll see you at school tomorrow, Taichi."  
  
And she left.  
  
I really never had a thing against or for Sora; she was my best friend before Yamato. Unfortunately, though, our platonic friendship wasn't one that lasted once she started dating. She started seeing guys in ways that either escalated beyond friendship or below. I may have been a good friend, but it's just natural that our friendship didn't last. We were never an item, nor did either of us ever have the desire to become one, but we still talked occasionally.  
  
When I watched her close the door behind her, I frowned, and turned to Yamato.  
  
It wasn't but a few seconds after Sora left, that my bestfriend snatched up the book he had been looking through and threw it angrily. I watched as it hit the side of the refridgerator and fell to the floor. Turning back, I walked closer to Yamato, who was just supporting himself to stand by clutching to a counter top. His eyes were unfocused and blurry.  
  
And I was right by his side, my arms supporting him, when his knees finally gave in. I slowly lowered him to sit on the floor, before sitting myself before him. His head fell back against the cabinet and his eyes shut tightly. I watched as a lithe hand reached up, brushing away a tear before it could fully form and tumble down his cheek. There was something wrong with this.  
  
I was confused as I sat, watching him like a child watching some really interesting film in a cinema. I had no idea what to do, because through all the time I knew my best friend, I had always had him on this pedestal, above me. In my mind, Yamato could do anything, and do it well. I had never seen him lose it, or been there to see him break down. I had made a horrible mistake. I had thought he was perfect.  
  
I remember these thoughts swarming my mind, realising this great mistake I had been making all along. A mistake that the others will probably continue to make until time has left us. As an instinct, I reached forward, brushing my hand softly down the side of his grieving face, and whispered, "Yamato..."  
  
I moved myself to sit beside him, brushing a few blond locks from his pale visage, and hoping that he would open his eyes and tell me what was wrong.  
  
"Please, Yamato..."  
  
He shook his head, as if he wanted to speak, but he couldn't. He wanted to sob, perhaps collapse onto the floor and weep, but I was there, and I suppose his pride wouldn't let him.  
  
I sat there silently, as he tried to gain control of himself, not knowing quite what to do. Was I to wrap my arms around him and whisper words of comfort into his ears? Was I to leave and let him sob in solitude? Was I just supposed to sit and wait? Not knowing which one, I just sat there, my hand resting lightly on his shoulder.  
  
If he needed me, I was there. If he didn't, all he would have to do was tell me.  
  
I wanted him to need me.  
  
I wanted him to love me.  
  
And then I knew, and that was all there was to say about it.  
  
He eventually gained his control, again, and stood, apologising profusely for ignoring me, and throwing the book. Stepping back into his familiar perfection.  
  
"So... What's up?" I pulled myself up to sit on the counter-top, lazily.  
  
He shrugged, lifting his book from the floor, and looking through it once again to find that earlier page. Spotting it, he set it slowly down, upon the countertop, beside me, and glanced up to my questioning face. I smiled slightly to see his eyes clear again, that beautiful cold blue showing me hints of just what thoughts might be drifting through his mind. He didn't want to speak of what just happened, and his eyes reflected the pain of keeping it silent.  
  
As much as it hurt me that he kept these things to himself, to probably lock himself in his room at night and cry over, I understood. It was just the way he handled things. He had always been alone about things of the sort, so that was how he would deal with it. I was going to have to get even closer to him for him to trust me so completely-- but I was more than willing.  
  
I wanted him to know.  
  
"You are my best friend, Yama..." I felt myself speak, my voice strangely soft and serious, not a tone that I recall using very many times during the long 17 years of my life.  
  
His eyes were beautiful, a hint of surprise due to my actions, flickering within their depths.  
  
"I would trust you with anything, because you mean that much to me..." It was right on the tip of my tongue. Those three words that could probably convey everything I held upon my chest instantly, and allow me to breathe easily, again. Though, looking at his eyes, I found myself unable to speak them, "I don't want for you to be sad, Yama."  
  
Our faces had some how become so much closer by this time. He was hardly three inches away, his gaze locked with mine, intently. I didn't even speak those words, that I had wanted, but it really didn't matter. He had heard them anyway.  
  
His breath was suddenly brushing across my face, as I realised that we were still moving closer. Our lips were quite literally only a thin breadth away. I was about to kiss my best friend.  
  
And I wanted to, so badly.  
  
Then the phone rang.  
  
Neither of us moved for a second, still somewhat lost in the haze of what had been about to occur. Finally as the phone rang for what might have been the fifth, or the fifteenth time (I wasn't paying attention), he pulled his blue eyes away, breaking our gaze and walking into the living room to answer the phone. A muffled one-sided conversation took place in the den as I remained sitting upon the counter, confused and barely breathing.  
  
When I came out of it, the blond was walking through the kitchen back over to his book, "Your mother and father are going out. She needs you and Kari home."  
  
"Now?" I blinked.  
  
He grunted, refusing to meet my eyes, "I have to cook Dad's dinner before he gets here, anyway."  
  
As was typically predictable in all situations where a gay male teenager is about to kiss his (assumably) straight male best friend and is interrupted by something (ie: telephone, doorbell, parents, other people, falling meteors, etc.) and has to leave without being able to explain his actions, the atmosphere in the kitchen had suddenly become a very uncomfortable one. It was probably best that I did leave. What would I have said, otherwise?  
  
The phrase, 'So, should we shag now, or shag later? Mrrowww.' [1] enters my mind.  
  
We didn't exchange farewells as I left, and there was no contact for the rest of the evening, but it was very understandable considering the circumstances.  
  
I had a dream that night, in which I kissed a girl-- some random faceless girl. I pulled back, though, after a moment, feeling dizzy, and saw Yamato. He was standing not far behind me, in the hallway (we were apparently at school), and his face was the saddest I had ever seen. I felt like I had somehow betrayed him, and went to walk towards him. As soon as I took my first step in his direction, though, he simply turned to walk away.  
  
I have this memory of running after him as he slowly walked down the hallway, but no matter how fast I was, and how slow he walked, I couldn't catch up. I had lost him. When I awoke, it was around 3:30 in the morning, and I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.  
  
Yamato was waiting for me at the curb, as usual, so that we could walk to school together, the next morning. When I got up to him, though, neither of us had it in us to speak, and we walked in an eerie, uncomfortable silence. Not surprisingly, we didn't speak to each other for the rest of the school day, avoiding each other in the halls, and actually paying attention (for once) in class. By the time classes and the cleaning period [2] had ended, I found myself running to meet with my best friend.  
  
I had settled it in my mind, as I cleaned Tarada-sensei's board that afternoon, that we had to talk about what happened. My day had been the epitome of horrible without my bestfriend, not to mention, the others had (predictably) noticed our avoidance of each other all through-out the day. I didn't want to undergo another day without settling what had happened between me and Yamato-- even if it did mean he didn't want anything to do with me, anymore.  
  
And when I said my day had been horrible, it really had.  
  
I never really understood how much my days were established around me and Yamato's friendship. I talked to other people thoughout the day, of course, but I found myself in the dark without my best friend. My (assumably) straight male best friend, whom I had almost kissed, and whom now knew that I was in love with him, was avoiding me, and it made my day a living hell.  
  
It also made me question my feelings for the blond boy, again. I was 17 years old. How could I even really have known what love was? The answer was very simple: I didn't.  
  
Though, I did know that there was no other way to explain the intensity of emotions I felt around Yamato. What he unconsciously did to me by just -being- there. It also helped to explain an unnaturally strong physical attraction I had to him.  
  
He nodded his greeting, eyes never looking directly at me, and we began our walk back to our homes together. I searched for words to say as we walked but I couldn't find any. We needed to talk, but I couldn't find a way to initiate the conversation.  
  
Then Yamato, as usual, did something that surprised me (he's a weird like that).  
  
"Did you understand our Physics assignment?" His voice was casual, though there was a slight timidity to his tone.  
  
"Ano..." I blinked. Yamato was actually taking charge of the situation, now? Whoa. "I guess--"  
  
"Good. Then you can help me with it." This said just as we reached the curb, where we usually split up, he grabbed my arm and pulled me in the direction of his apartment.  
  
Again, I was speechless. I would never be able to say that I fully understood Yamato, but I did know him well enough, that there was something on his mind-- and it was most definately not studying. I simply walked fast to keep up with his long strides, trying to find my suddenly absent breath, and figure out what was going to happen when we got to his apartment.  
  
Yes, surprisingly, I am able to think and walk at the same time. I am -that- talented.  
  
When we got to the building, he suddenly slowed down, probably in the same timing as the matter on his mind. His blue eyes had that cloudy, unreadable look; that same distance, yet something almost akin to determination within it. Neither of us said a word as we upped the stairs, the slowness of out walking beginning to burn away at my nerves.  
  
We reached his door, and suddenly the blond seemed completely relaxed. Almost as if everything was back to normal. He turned the key, pushing the door open and letting himself in. He stopped in the foyer, holding the door open for me to enter, too. With a slight hesitance, I entered, moving from the range of the door so that he might shut it.  
  
As soon as the door clicked shut, something happened between us.  
  
I found myself pressed against the wall behind me, his lips crushed upon mine, and our books and bags falling to the floor unnoticed. It was intense, and at first I found myself lightheaded and unable to understand the situation I suddenly found myself in. Or should I say "between", for as I interpretted this, the situation was Yamato's gorgeous body and a wall.  
  
As I realised that he was kissing me, I suddenly felt I was hopeless to do anything else, and something else within me took control of my body. I slid my arms around his waist, pulling his body closer, pressing it into my own with a vicious intensity that I wasn't aware I even possessed. His tongue slid across my lower lip, nipping for me to give him access, and I could do nothing but surrender to him.  
  
He tasted so sweet, so unbelievably beautiful, and I wanted more. I wanted more than this kiss, no matter how passionate or exotic it may be. I wanted him. I wanted him physically, mentally, and emotionally. I needed him in ways that words would not describe.  
  
It was hard, realising this so suddenly as I was pinned to the wall beneath his body. A body that I was pressing even closer to me as we kissed, until it could go no farther. I wanted him so badly, and this kiss-- this one kiss would never be enough!  
  
In need of air, I found him pulling back from me. My tongue now resented it's solitude within my mouth and my lips now froze from the smouldering heat that had just left them. Every part of my body yearned for him. My lungs no longer needed air, if it meant him and me together.  
  
He paused over me, panting for breath as his head was tilted down, his blue eyes still closed in what I could only hope was some remainder of the unimaginable ecstacy that one kiss provided. It was like hell waiting for our next movement, whatever it was to be. I wanted more than he could possibly have ever given me in one kiss.  
  
I admit that I am blindly selfish when it comes to Yamato. Why should I deny it? If you were me, feeling the emotions and urges I felt when I was with him, you would be too. If you knew the sweet intoxicating taste of his kiss, I know you would be too.  
  
Maybe you don't agree, though. It wouldn't matter to me. He is imperfect to the world, and I am over mistakening him as opposite. He is, however, perfect to me, and all I need to survive. It was so different to need something, or even want something as much as I desired Yamato. I needed things from him that I would have never considered before. I needed him inside of me, yet, I so longed to be inside of him. I could feel my mind stretching, trying to sort through all of these sudden emotions.  
  
Why did I have to feel so unsatisfied? Why was everything about Yamato so beautiful? Why did I want so much more from Yamato than I could ever be allowed to have? Why did this attraction to my best friend have to be so intense?  
  
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I was so in love with him.  
  
Finally, as we still gasped for breath, pressed against the wall, he looked up, his eyes opening to reveal this clear beautiful blue-- yet he looked so hopelessly lost in that moment. It was as if seeing an entirely different side of him. Everything I needed, he needed it, too. It was written in his eyes.  
  
Whatever it was, something had changed us. We were no longer the same drull best friends, Taichi and Yamato. We were something so much more, now. Something far beyond the boundry of friendship.  
  
Even thinking about it now, makes my head ache.  
  
His hands lowered from the wall as he placed them at the sides of my face. His forhead was pressed to mine and his eyes only closed again. I felt mine flutter shut soon after, and I listened as he whispered everything to me. Eyes shut, body to body, forhead to forhead, he expressed to me every thought and feeling inside of him, things he had never told anyone before. He whispered softly, only loud enough to reach my ears. He told me how he wanted me-- needed me, and how he felt so lost without me.  
  
And without hesitation, I took off where he ended, matching every feeling, every need, every thought that had escaped his lips. I told him everything, words leaving my lips sometimes before I was even sure of what I was saying. I knew that I loved him, and I felt that he loved me, but I still could not bring myself to initiate it.  
  
Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the reason I couldn't be the first to say it was because of her. Sora and Yamato had been dating for months prior to this event (I even found out later that the arguement between Yamato and Sora in the kitchen that led to all of this was their 'breaking up'), and never ceased to amaze me how they could always flaunt their 'love'. Though, it wasn't their relationship that I had so disliked, but more of the way they initiated their 'love'.  
  
It was always the same.  
  
Sora would say, "I love you, Yamato kun."  
  
And he would almost dully respond, "I love you, too."  
  
Something in my mind made it a resolve not to take Sora's place. I refused to experience the same meaningless action with the one knew I really loved. I was dying to say it, but there was no way I could bring myself to be the first. So, I was stubborn in that one sense, but I even felt myself weakening there. If he didn't say it, I was going to end up telling him, and it was going to ruin everything. I needed to know that Yamato loved me, and I needed to know before "I love you" simply became a routine.  
  
My mind soared with the desire to know, 'Do you love me, Yamato? Please, say it! Please say you love me!' It was a continuous stream of chanting within my mind.  
  
I couldn't help it when I felt myself quietly whisper, "Please, Yamato. Please say you do..." I had never meant for it to escape my mouth, but it did and I bit my lip. I was beginning to feel that small prick behind my eyes. You know, the one that always hurts when you're holding back tears?  
  
"Tell you what, Taichi? What am I to say?" His voice was so soft and weak that I worried it would simply fade.  
  
"I need to know you do. Please tell me you do!" I was near tears now, but I couldn't let myself cry. I wouldn't allow it.  
  
"That I what..?" His voice was almost silent, and I only barely heard it.  
  
"Do you love me?" I whispered, gaining only a small amount of volume from my unusually weak throat, "How much do I mean to you?"  
  
"More than 'I love you' says..." He whispered it so softly, that I almost missed it, the chanting within my mind was so loud by now.  
  
And that was good enough for me.  
  
"And I, as well." I pressed my lips to his again, something in me wanting him beneath me. I pushed myself up from the wall, forcing him to step back, rather ungracefully for Yamato's standards. It took no effort to spin us around and pin -him- against the wall (and it was done so quickly, he couldn't protest). My hands moved from their dangerously tight grasp around his waist, and I lifted them to his shoulders, raking them down his chest in what little space there was between us.  
  
"Since when?" The question was unexpected, as he murmered it against my mouth even as we kissed.  
  
I pulled back only far enough to respond properly, "Since forever." About to crush my lips to his again, I paused, "And you?"  
  
His eyes fluttered open, his expression carefully thoughtful, "As some one unimportant once said, 'Whoever loved that loved not at first site?'"  
  
And I pressed my lips to his again for one more deep kiss before we moved to the bedroom.  
  
Needless to say, I slept over that night. Many things were done, and not one of them was our Physics assignment.  
  
*****  
  
I could probably go on forever about Yamato and I and the things we went through. Though, I believe I'll spare some details, for time's sake.  
  
We've been together for four years now, he and I, and neither of us ever regretted a day of it. We also intend on it staying that way until our times come. Yamato is still imperfect to the world, and it's really no large surprise that I am, also. Though, his perfection, to me, grows more every passing moment, and if he thought in my terms, I don't doubt he would feel the same.  
  
Yamato continues to make me more than average.  
  
He is also still antisocial and somewhat depressive, but I believe he's really come out of it these past years. I'm still somewhat clueless and a clutz, but I don't think that it matters anymore to either of us. Everything about us is accepted between the two of us, and though we both still have our secrets, we never allow them to intervene with our relationship.  
  
Even though, we still argue. But that's normal, right?  
  
Truthfully, I suddenly believe I have officially gotten over my obssession with 'average-ness'. Though, I do believe that Yamato is the only reason for it. I'm rather glad that we're not too average, though I'm not disappointed that we are at least basic.  
  
We have simple concepts between us. Sometimes I may like him, other times I may not, and vice versa, but I still love him more than anything. Sometimes I forget his favourite colour of the month (he switches almost all the time; right now it happens to be 'navy'), and sometimes he forgets that I am still asleep at 10:30 in the morning (he turns his guitar amp. up far too loud). It never means anything, and it's nice to know that we're close enough for it not to matter.  
  
No one will ever be closer to me than him.  
  
And whether our relationship is average or not, it just doesn't get better between us. Blah, blah, blah.  
  
*****  
  
I walk in to our apartment at about 22:30, finally coming home after a day full of studying, and soccer practice. University life keeps me very busy to be out to such a time. I shut the door behind me, lazily, just barely remembering to lock it-- as Yama often reminds me.  
  
I take off my shoes in the foyer wonder what my lover is up to. If I know him as well as I think, it has something to do with music-- listening to CD's, writing a song, playing his harmonica or guitar. Yamato does not attend the University, as I do. How could Japan's top rock star possibly have enough time?  
  
Tch. That sounds kind of cocky.  
  
Yamato's band is, no doubt, one of the most popular rock groups in the whole of Nippon, and it's not surprising, since I already knew he had a beautiful voice before all of his fame. I think he deserves the attention he gets for it-- he can hardly go out without signing an autograph-- seeing as how he got so little growing up.  
  
I could never imagine being able to take complete care of myself by such a young age.  
  
"Yama?" I pad through the hallway in my house-slippers, glancing around for my golden-haired lover.  
  
The apartment is silent, which worries me. There's absolutely no sound to signify his presence. I open the door to his bedroom and flip on the light.  
  
We don't share a bedroom, very simply because it doesn't work out well. He's a cover-hog and so am I, and we both sleep across the entire length of the bed, so when we do sleep together, we hardly get any sleep. It also has some to do with his independance-thing. Sure, we sleep in the same bed sometimes, though, usually it's only after performing certain activities (bet you can't guess -what-). It's necessary to have -some- room.  
  
He's not in his room, so I wonder across the hall to check out my own.  
  
No, no famous rock stars in -my- bedroom, it seems.  
  
Finally, I enter the den and kitchen area, and I spot him.  
  
He's sprawled out on the couch, his guitar grasped in lithe, slender hands; his entire body limp with sleep. I stand and watch slowly as his chest rises and falls in time with his breath. I don't want to wake him, but he's going to regret waking up in the morning, after sleeping like that all night.  
  
Grouchy Yama is not fun.  
  
His beautiful blond hair falls lightly in his eyes, which are closed in a peaceful rest. He really is beautiful. To be honest, he is -very- beautiful when he sleeps, but it's nothing really as special as people would think. He actually looks better awake, in my opinion. When he's awake his eyes are open, and I adore his blue eyes.  
  
I'm willing to bet he like's me better when awake (even though he'd probably say other wise-- "Because when you're asleep you don't talk -as much-."), as I sleep with my mouth open, and probably drooling on anything and everything beneath me. I think I look stupid when I sleep; Yamato showed me a picture of me sleeping once before and I 'accidently' dropped it into the garbage disposal. He slapped me for it, too.  
  
I'm walking over to wake him, but before I reach him, he's opened his eyes, yawning. He's a very light sleeper, obviously.  
  
"Taichi kun? What are you doing home so early?" He's trying to clear his vision, as he lifts a hand to rub his eyes, the other one tightening around his guitar, stopping a possible fall. "I thought you were going to be late, today." He mumbles, sleepily.  
  
I smirk, pushing his feet away so that I can join him on the couch, observing as he sets his guitar carefully on the floor beneath him. "I am, genius. Look at the clock."  
  
He gives me an adorably confused look for a few moments before glancing up at the tiny clock on top of our television. His mouth form's a silent "Oh" before he turns back to me.  
  
On some odd impulse, I pounce from my position on the opposite end of the couch, landing right on top of his sprawled out form. His eyes widen for a moment, taking in the force of my weight landing upon his lighter body, right before he narrows his icy blue eyes to glare at me. Though, I simply ignore the look, winding one arm around his thin waist and running one down the side of smooth, pale face.  
  
His gaze softens as he watches me, and I whisper a sound that doesn't even make sense to my own ears or mind. I lean forward and kiss him softly on the edge of his lips, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. I kiss him again, this time my lips directly to his own with more pressure, and he's responding in a moment, kissing me back as my tongue demands access and he allows it, deepening our kiss. A surge of chills run down my spine.  
  
He's moved now, kissing my chin and placing small kisses like tiny ticklish bites down my neck. I moan, tilting his chin so I might kiss his lips again before pulling away slightly, I smirk at him, "And guess who's on top this time."  
  
He merely rolls his eyes, just now noticing that I am actually straddling him on the couch.  
  
I lean forward and kiss him again.  
  
I could relay so many memories and thoughts of what's happened between us, though I am afraid you might find that some of it is fairly average. Though, when I think of them all, there is one more that sticks out in my mind amoung the lot of them. I remember asking Yamato once if he were gay or bisexual, and the answer somewhat surprised me (as usual, he surprises me often).  
  
"Neither, Taichi. I prefer to be classified as 'Taisexual'." [3]  
  
*****  
  
Notes--  
  
[1] Austin Powers, if you couldn't figure it out. ;)  
  
[2] It's not terribly uncommon for Japanese schools to have extended time after classes end, in which children are required to help tidy and clean the school.  
  
[3] If you're also reading "Got Elegance?" expect to see this joke there, too. ^_~  
  
[*] I love reviews! *Wink, wink, nudge, nudge* 


End file.
